


Stepping Stones

by blackkat



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Dimension Travel, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Romance, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 23:39:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where he didn’t die at the bridge, Obito is a loyal Konoha shinobi, even if his Konoha is practically gone. Rather than die at the hands of Orochimaru, Obito triggers an experimental time-space jutsu that sends him across dimensions, into a world where his counterpart went insane and Kakashi is mystifyingly different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stepping Stones

**Author's Note:**

> Oh holy hand baskets. I’ll admit, this thing got…a little away from me. I meant it to be 5k word one-shot about good!Obito encountering twisted!Obito, but that somehow never happened, and it turned into 13k words of schmoopy angst with a big chunk o’ porn at the end. That said, I'm not a Naruto writer; this is my first venture into the fandom and I fail forever at characterization in general, so I apologize in advance.

There are footsteps among the ruins of what was once Konoha, carefully skirting the fires that have yet to fully die out. Obito stays where he is, though he opens his one remaining eye in the half-dark. The Memorial Stone is gone now, so much rubble amongst all the rest, and his friends have long since burned to ash or been taken for the Snake Sannin’s twisted experiments. Obito watched them fall before the army Orochimaru brought, Konoha still far too weak from Madara’s final attack, and he mourns them even though the proper place to do so has crumbled.

The footsteps pass to his right, in what once was the main street. Were he any less of a shinobi, Obito would tense and likely give himself away, but he’s been ANBU since he was seventeen, and long practice staying absolutely still keeps his muscles loose and ready to move.

He wouldn’t look, even if he could move without giving himself away. He doesn’t want to look into the red eyes of his only living cousin and face his abject failure once more.

It hurts, _aches_ that Sasuke left the way he did, that Obito wasn’t enough to keep him in the village and tie him to an honest life as one of the last two loyal Uchiha. But Sasuke abandoned Konoha, abandoned his team and his sensei and his cousin for a path of bloodshed and revenge, and that will never not pain Obito to the very core. He had thought that with Sasuke supported as he grew, mentored and cared for and _loved_ like the little brother Obito was never previously allowed to have, that it would temper his need for vengeance in time.

It’s been a long time since Obito was quite so wrong about something, and now Orochimaru is walking around inside of Sasuke’s skin. Now Orochimaru has used Sasuke’s hands to tear Konoha to the ground and kill all of his former friends.

Worst of all, Obito cannot say that Sasuke would not do the same, were he the one in control.

The steps fade into the fire-lit gloom and vanish entirely, and Obito breathes out slow and soft. There's a body in front of him, half-mangled and covered in tacky blood. If it were possible, Obito would seal him into a scroll, carry him far away until Tenzo could be buried with the honor he deserves and not left for Orochimaru to find and defile. But even dragging his fellow ANBU’s body away from where he fell—valiantly, gloriously, nobly, but in the end futilely—was a larger risk than Obito is entirely comfortable taking. As it is, he leans over Tenzo’s cold corpse and gently shuts his blank black eyes, bidding farewell to a true friend, a brave partner, and a one-time lover.

Tenzo isn’t the only friend and lover he’s lost today.

The grief is sharp and tearing, even more painful than the stab wound through his left side or the dislocated shoulder he hasn’t yet had time to set. Obito closes his eye and bows his head, silently offering up a prayer to whatever cruel god might be listening.

He should go, move on.

There are more bodies to find and hide as well as he’s able.

There are more comrades who deserve one last parting thought.

But for all his willpower, Obito cannot make himself move. He’s quite likely the last Konoha shinobi still breathing, more from luck than any sort of skill, and he despairs of it. Naruto, only recently named Rokudaime Hokage, is gone, the first to fall before Orochimaru’s treachery. The clan heads, the chuunin, the jounin, even Obito's fellow ANBU are all gone, dead at the hands of two traitors made into one.

Konoha has fallen.

Obito suspects that the rest of the Hidden Villages will not be far behind.

Perhaps, were he a greater man, Obito would run, flee to another village—Suna, Kiri, Kumo, even Iwa—and warn them. But he’s been all but broken by this, the next closest thing to shattered, and he can't bring himself to care. Temari will carry word of the attack to Suna, as Naruto sent her away before the Oto forces reached them, and Gaara will alert the other Kages. There is nothing left for Obito to do.

But…there is one thing he _can_ do.

Obito's breath stills in his chest at the thought. It’s a long shot, a risk, something he’s only ever considered in theory and even then generally only when tipsy. Orochimaru or his sensor-girl will doubtless feel his chakra the moment he activates his Mangekyo, and the jutsu is a complicated one, its complexity helped little by the fact that it is Obito's own (untested) creation. Teleportation at its most difficult, with no way of telling beforehand where he’ll end up, or even _if_ he’ll end up somewhere. Using it means abandoning Konoha and everything that he knows.

That, at least, is the simple part, because everything Obito knows is already gone, vanished in fire and ash. Obito raises his head, opening his eye and lifting one hand to touch the red patch that covers his empty left eye socket. The other one is gone, taken with Kakashi's ( _no no no no don’t think of that don’t think don’t think_ )mutilated body to be secreted away in a lab somewhere. But this one—

In theory, this one will be enough.

For all his boasting as a child, Obito as an adult tends to downplay his skills, largely because everyone already _knows_ them. He’s the last loyal Uchiha, now that Itachi is dead and Sasuke a traitor, and he’s a late bloomer when it comes to the Sharingan. The first time he activated it, it was so _simple_ , less a newly acquired skill and more a long-remembered old one. He’d killed the Iwa nin so easily, countered jutsus as simply as breathing, and he’s never lost that innate understanding of his clan’s dojutsu.

So he has power and skill and the experience of well over a decade as a ninja. But this jutsu—

As far as Obito knows, no one has ever even attempted something like this.

He takes a deep breath and then another, reminding his lungs to work once more, and nods to himself. Konoha is gone, shattered beyond all repair. The first and greatest of the Hidden Villages is no more, and Obito isn’t going to haunt its ashes like a ghost until his inevitable capture by Orochimaru. The Snake already has three Sharingan eyes in his possession; Obito is hardly going to provide him with one more.

His Mangekyo burns as it activates—unshed tears, perhaps, but Obito can't tell and Kakashi isn’t here to mock him for it. The world twists and warps just as running steps sound in the street, and Obito brings his hands up, flashing through a long chain of seals. He lands in his Kamui dimension, hands still moving even as his knees give way and his head spins with blood loss.

One more seal, one more sign, and the jutsu activates. “Phoenix Gate!” Obito cries, staggering to his feet, and the dimension burns away in gold and indigo and crimson.

Obito falls and falls and falls, Mangekyo spinning and head startlingly clear, and behind him is a dead world lost forever to the darkness of despair.

 

“Yo!” Kakashi calls cheerfully, hopping through the window into the Hokage’s office.

Sakura throws a chair at him.

“LATE!” she shrieks, hefting the other armchair in a way that is less threatening and more promising. “By THREE HOURS!”

Pertinently, Kakashi immediately takes refuge behind his other student. He’s not above using a meat-shield when faced with the wrath of Tsunade’s second coming. “Maa, maa, Sakura-chan, you see I was on my way here when—”

“SAVE IT!”

The concealing body in front of him vanishes half a heartbeat before the chair comes hurling across the room, and Kakashi only has time for a hissed, “Naruto, you _traitor_!” as he dives for the safety of the Hokage’s desk.

“Sorry, Kakashi-sensei,” Naruto says with absolutely no sympathy, the brat. “But you should have been here—”

And then a surge of vermillion chakra bursts out of absolutely nowhere, engulfing the office. Sakura cries out as Naruto snatches her out of the way, even as a thick barrier of wood shoots out of the ground to cover them and Kakashi darts out from behind the desk. He spares half a glance to make sure his Hokage and Chief Medic are safe before spinning to face the flames.

They're already dissipating, though, swirling out of existence in a suspiciously familiar warping spiral. Kakashi wrenches his hitai-ate off, trying to pinpoint—

With a heavy thud, a body hits the ground. The flames vanish, the air stills, and everything is silent.

From the shadows, Yamato drops his wooden wall, revealing a steely-eyed Naruto and a tense Sakura. The ANBU glances at Kakashi, who nods shortly and darts over to the body, cataloguing details as he drops into a wary crouch beside it.

 _Male_ , he thinks. _On the short side, standard Konoha ANBU uniform, jackal mask tied to his kunai pouch, clothes torn, bleeding stab wound on his left side, black hair kept long, smells of smoke and blood, katana sheath on his back, no blade, pale, likely blood loss and chakra exhaustion—_

He carefully flips the man over, and then promptly forgets how to breathe.

The face is one he knows as well as he does his own, even a good ten years older than the last time he saw it looking so peaceful. Uchiha Obito, without a doubt, even though Obito died on a bloody battlefield, betrayed by his own ally.

But there are differences here, too, more than Kakashi can so simply write off. This Obito's scars are milder, less painful to look at, and he wears a red patch over his left eye socket—empty, by the flatness of the patch. He’s lean and muscled under the uniform, still skinny but more filled out, if less so than the Obito they faced in the war. His hair is still spiky, but long, hanging between his shoulder blades in a loose braid. And…

“A Konoha hitai-ate,” Yamato observes, “and he’s got a captain’s tattoo.”

Kakashi manages to tear his gaze from that pale, worn face for just long enough to register the ANBU tattoo with its edging of red on the man’s shoulder, clearly not recent, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

Somehow, impossibly, this Obito is a Konoha shinobi, and clearly a well-respected one.

“How…?” Naruto breathes.

Sakura shakes her head, always first to answer when something delves into theory. “I don’t know,” she says softly, eyes fixed on the Uchiha in the center of the room. “Some kind of space-time jutsu? It should be…”

“Impossible,” Kakashi finishes for her, even as he pulls out bandages and makes to bind the weeping stab wound.

Briskly, Sakura pushes him away. “I’ll do it.” A quick check and she glances at Naruto and then Kakashi, eyes serious but steady. “Call a team of medics; we need to get this man to the hospital.”

Naruto nods and looks to Yamato and his two subordinates in the shadows. “I’ll stay with Cat and Bear. Call a team together and set up shifts—I want him watched constantly. Go.”

Yamato leaves, but Kakashi can't even spare him a glance.

Obito holds his entire attention, and he’s waiting on a knife’s edge for even the faintest twitch.

(There's none, but Obito keeps breathing. For now, that will have to be enough.)

 

 _Ah_ , is Obito's first thought upon his return to consciousness. _Not dead, I see._

Of course, as a shinobi, _not dead_ covers quite a lot of territory, much of it unpleasant. This time, however, it’s not so bad. His eye is aching from overuse, and chakra exhaustion weighs at his body like a lead blanket, but his shoulder has been set, he’s not missing any limbs beyond the pinky finger he lost three years ago in an interrogation, and the stab in his side seems to be mostly closed.

There's no moment of disorientation, even with the familiar disinfectant-and-new-grass smell unique to Konoha’s hospital hanging in the air around him. The loss of _his_ Konoha is too great for him to ever forget, regardless of the two weeks he’s had to come to terms with it. But that means—

“It worked,” he breathes, opening his eye to see a plain white ceiling, and smiling because it _shouldn’t_ be there, but it _is_.

A new world, then, just like he was supposed to find. The jutsu _worked_.

“Maa, really?” a familiar voice says in an entirely unfamiliar lazy drawl. “Mind sharing with the class, Uchiha-san?”

It takes far more effort than it should to turn his head—definitely chakra exhaustion, and a fairly bad case of it, too—but Obito does, because he has to see—

Kakashi, grey hair as gravity-defying as ever, hitai-ate tilted down across his left eye and mask pulled all the way up to meet it. The sight of him—alive, whole, _here_ —is like a kunai to the chest, and Obito chokes on whatever words might come next, though really, what can he _possibly_ say to a living dead man?

“Kakashi,” he says breathlessly, and can't help (doesn’t even try to fight) the wide smile that spreads over his face. “I did it. The jutsu _worked_.” Then the memory of flames and blood and bodies overwhelms him, and exhaustion or no, he jerks upright, grabbing Kakashi's flak jacket before the other jounin can so much as react. “Orochimaru! My dimension, he was there—Oto—he destroyed everything! Where is he, is he still alive? Is he—?”

“Dead,” Kakashi says simply, “or as good as.” He carefully detaches Obito's hand from his uniform before dropping into the chair next to the bed. “Tell me how you did it,” he orders, crossing his arms over his chest as he slouches in his seat. If Obito didn’t know him quite as well as he actually does, it would be impossible to see the defensiveness of that position. But Obito has long since made it his business to know even the smallest of Kakashi's tells, and this is definitely one of them.

And, of course, he’s asking what is likely the hardest question in this whole ridiculous situation. Obito sighs and scratches his head, somewhere between annoyed and amused. Strange mannerisms aside, this is definitely Hatake Kakashi.

“You're the genius,” he complains, fighting to regain his equilibrium, even though he already knows his protest is futile. “Can't you just figure it out yourself?”

Kakashi's visible eye narrows faintly. “Indulge me,” he drawls. “The Obito I'm used to was hell-bent on conquering the world after supposedly dying on the way to Kannabi Bridge. I’d like some assurance that you're not about to do the same.”

Well.

That’s…

Startling.

Closing his eye—and _no,_ having an evil twin in another dimension is actually _not cool at all_ —Obito casts around for a suitable metaphor. “Um…evil me could teleport, right?” At Kakashi's nod, he forges on. “Picture a river with two banks and a stepping stone in the middle. When I teleport, it’s like jumping from the right-hand bank—our dimension—to the stepping stone—my Kamui dimension—and then back to the riverbank, either further up or further down. I land in a different location, but still in the same world. Comparatively, it takes little effort—about as much as a civilian jumping over a ditch. With my Phoenix Gate jutsu, it’s…” He trails off, biting his lips a little.

Kakashi raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Obito rolls his eye at the prodding. “Well, this is where the metaphor gets complicated. Instead of one bank on the left side of the river, picture thousands, millions, all stacked one on top of the other. With the Phoenix Gate, instead of turning around and jumping back into the original dimension, I just…go forward. But it takes a lot of chakra—like a ninja trying to jump to the top of the Hokage Tower in one go. And then you have to sort through the other dimensions while you're still in the air, because if you land in one that’s too similar to your original universe, where the ‘ _you_ ’ there is too similar to the ‘you’ jumping, reality rebels against the possibility of a paradox and boots you right back out. So you have to calculate momentum, necessary chakra, drag, direction, and speed, all while shuffling through infinite possibilities to find a destination universe that’s just different enough to accept you. It’s…complicated.”

Kakashi's silent for a long moment, his gaze distant, as though working through all the steps himself and making sure they're logical. (They are, or Obito wouldn’t have been able to do it; he’s clever, cunning, and has good instincts, but he’s never been _smart_ in the way most people think of it.) Obito waits him out, studying the weave of the hospital blanket and wondering how soon he can get discharged—hopefully not straight to T  & I, but at this point, he isn’t feeling too picky.

(Because it _worked_ , and that is so simultaneously amazing and cool and _terrifying_ , because Obito can jump through _dimensions_ and he’s in _Konoha_ and it _isn’t destroyed_. Freaking _hell_.)

After what feels like a damned eternity of silence (but is probably only a few minutes; Obito has never, ever been good at sitting still, and time has not changed much), Kakashi finally tips his head and nods. “Makes sense,” he says, and Obito's heart flutters a little, even though it’s hardly praise and this isn’t _his_ Kakashi. Not that he ever had any claim to Kakashi anyway. “So the difference in your universe was…?”

“Me not being a psychopath?” Obito says jokingly, though he still can't entirely believe that in this universe, he’s the next best thing to an evil mastermind. It just…the mind _boggles_ , really. He hurries on before he can look into that too deeply, because _no_ , regardless of how exciting the thought of an evil twin would have been when he was a kid. “Well, you said I ‘died’ in that rock fall, right? When the Iwa nin started compressing the rocks, I'm guessing. In my universe, a backup team arrived—Shikaku, Inoichi, and Chouza. Rin had already transplanted my eye, but they took care of the reinforcements and got me out before I could be permanently hurt.” It’s automatic, at this point, for Obito to touch the deep scars on his right cheek, but he’s a shinobi. Scars are a part of life, and they certainly don’t affect his ability to fight, so they're not even worth mentioning.

Kakashi lets his eyes linger on them, though, and one hand twitches, a gesture aborted before it can become anything at all. He takes a breath, loud enough for Obito to hear even across the distance that separates them, and then rises to his feet. A moment later he’s at the window, back turned to the bed as he asks, “And…Rin?”

The name still hurts, as Obito suspects it always will, but it’s an old pain now, diminished enough for Obito to say with most of his composure, “We…killed her. After they tried to turn her into an unstable jinchuuriki to destroy Konoha. It…activated our Mangekyo Sharingan.”

Three short little sentences, a world of grief behind them. Obito closes his eyes as he feels tears welling up, the way they always do. But he’s cried too much for Rin already, far too much for any one person, regardless of how dear, and he chokes them back.

“It broke you, in this world,” Kakashi says softly, still facing away, and Obito absently wishes that he could see the other man’s face right now. “That was when you decided to change everything, because you loved her so much.”

Obito blinks. He replays that last sentence in his head one more time, just to make sure he heard correctly, and then blinks again.

Well. Apparently _that’s_ the main difference here, then.

Because as far as Obito remembers, he’s always been in love with _Kakashi_.

“Um,” he manages after a second, feeling heat creeping insidiously up his face. “I… In my universe I loved you?”

It comes out as more of a squeaky question than an even statement of fact, but judging by the way Kakashi spins around, visible eye going wide, he gets the gist of it anyway.

There's a sound suspiciously like a quickly choked snicker from the shadow in the corner—the resident ANBU, undoubtedly—and Obito wracks his brain for a jutsu that will make the ground rise up and swallow him. There are a reassuring number, actually, and he’d use one in a heartbeat if it weren’t for the chakra suppression seals painted on his body.

“You…and _me_?” Kakashi sounds suspiciously squeaky, too, which is a relief.

Obito waves his hands frantically. “No! Well, you always—no! It was just me, completely one-sided, I swear. We were—” He cuts himself off, biting his lip to hide the pang of familiar, lonely pain that shoots through his chest, then forces composure and adds more quietly, “We…never really managed to become friends, and I didn’t want to do anything without at least a bit of solid ground between us, so…I just never said anything. You avoided me a lot, so I think you knew, but… Well, nothing happened.”

There's another stretch of silence, this one far heavier than the last, and then Kakashi nods just once. “I need to talk to the Hokage,” he says, and vanishes in a swirl of leaves.

Obito is left alone in a sterile hospital room with only his hidden guards for company, alone and so very, achingly lonely, the way he’s been for years now, even before Konoha’s fall. He closes his eyes, once more trying to fight the burn of tears.

If he fails, the ANBU are kind enough not to comment.

 

Kakashi lands on the roof of the hospital with a curse that’s more self-directed than anything. He tears off his hitai-ate despite the immediate drag of chakra usage, and presses a hand over the eye Obito so selflessly shared.

“How can you be so stupid?” he hisses at his counterpart in another universe, even as he recalls the deep, shiny-white scars carved into the right side of this Obito's face. Those are clear proof that Obito didn’t escape the rock fall unscathed, regardless of the front he puts up, and they _should_ have been enough of a reminder for his fool of a double to _realize_ what he almost _lost_. Surely the shared eye was clue enough. Surely he didn’t _keep_ being an asshole after coming so close to losing _everything_.

_We…never managed to become friends._

But Kakashi knows himself, if nothing else—knows what it took to change, and how close he was to never changing at all. If Obito hadn’t died, if he hadn’t vanished from Kakashi's world forever, it’s very likely Kakashi would have turned out just like his counterpart, and that’s…

Frightening.

 _In my universe, I loved you_.

Kakashi has never even contemplated such a thing. He’s never been one for romance beyond the omnipresent porn and a handful of one-night stands quickly forgotten. But—

 _Obito_.

The Obito that lived in Kakashi's memory for so long, right up until Tobi’s identity was revealed, was an idol more than anything, a hero elevated by death. Kakashi hasn’t ever thought of him as anything beyond a crucible, a turning point of his life and the fulcrum on which his world shifted, the friend he could have had but for his ridiculous, painful mistakes. The Sharingan he uses is Obito's, the habits he adopts are Obito's, the first name on his lips every time he visits the Memorial Stone is Obito's. But…he’s never been _human_ , not in any way that counts. 

And this, this is undeniably, undoubtedly human. Kakashi knows grief and loneliness, understands them better than most, and he recognized the quickly-hidden expression on Obito's face when he spoke of the alternate Kakashi (not _his_ Kakashi, because that man doesn’t deserve such sweet softness in Obito's eye) avoiding him.

“Damn it,” Kakashi breathes, yanking his hitai-ate back into place. This is all too complicated, so unbearably complicated no matter how much Kakashi wants to bolt back to Obito's room and make sure that this familiar stranger, so like the boy he knew rather than the crazed, overpowered madman this world’s version became, doesn’t disappear into nothingness again. At the same time, he wants to run, avoid the hospital and wherever Obito eventually ends up for the rest of his natural life, because he _can't_. He can't do this again, lose him again, look at that scarred face and that gentle black eye and that damned red patch. One loss of that magnitude was enough to break and entirely remake him, and Kakashi is self-aware enough to know that he won't survive another such incident.

“Damn it!” he repeats, slamming a fist into the low wall and watching it crack and crumble under the strength of the blow.

“You know, even if she’s not Hokage anymore, baa-chan will still break your face for wrecking any part of her hospital,” a voice informs him cheerfully as a figure in an orange-and-black coat settles gracefully on the edge of the wall.

Kakashi looks at his former student, his current Hokage, and normally he’d pull up a smile or whip out his book, but for once he can't make himself hide the pure, tearing _uncertainty_ that’s eating at him like a parasite. Judging by the sympathetic half-smile on Naruto's face and the quiet understanding in his blue eyes, he recognizes both what he’s seeing and the reason behind it.

“He’s awake, then,” Naruto says, and after three days of Kakashi sitting immovable in that sterile room, it’s not a question. The half-smile changes to a thoughtful frown as he tips his head, and then he sighs. “Argh, geez, Sakura-chan keeps telling me to be tactful, but I can't figure it out! Would it be rude to ask what you think of him right now?”

That, at least, makes Kakashi laugh, because Rokudaime Hokage or no, most powerful shinobi of his generation or no, Naruto will forever be a loveable knucklehead. He takes a step back, still chuckling, and rakes a hand through his silver hair. “Maa, what kind of sensei would I be if I left my cute student hanging? What do you want my opinion on?”

“Can we let him out?” Naruto asks promptly, and that’s probably to be expected. He’s the type to put faith in anyone, and Kakashi has long since stopped being surprised when it pays off with interest. Gaara is just one example. If he didn’t know better, Kakashi would say it was some sort of bloodline.

But the question is serious enough, and Kakashi considers it carefully, turning the matter over in his mind. His kneejerk reaction it to say _no_ —but that’s also paranoia and personal betrayal speaking, not just his instincts. He’s used to feeling a burn of entwined anger, guilt, and grief whenever he thinks of Obito, and it’s no different when he sees this version from a parallel universe.

Still, this Obito is everything that the other Obito should have been, _would_ have been if not for a cruel twist of fate. He’s entirely honest, even to the point of blind faith, and Kakashi has still never met any shinobi who can tear up so easily. And the scars…

“He’s telling the truth,” Kakashi says eventually, taking a seat next to Naruto. “His Phoenix Gate jutsu legitimate, from what I know of his—our—Mangekyo, and he’s grieving. It fits with his story of coming from a world where Orochimaru destroyed Konoha. He’s…Obito.”

And that’s the entire, aching truth of it. Kakashi smiles a little to himself, helpless and wry. “He’s the Obito that I remember. I thought that Obito died under a pile of rocks on the way to Kannabi Bridge, but…he’s here, Naruto.”

His former student smiles at him, not the wide and overbearing grin he puts on, but something smaller, softer, and far more genuine. “I'm so glad,” he says, pushing to his feet. He touches Kakashi's shoulder, just a brief brush in passing as he heads for the stairwell. At the door, he pauses, half-turns, and gives Kakashi the same grin that Kushina once wore half a heartbeat before she dumped hot pink paint over his head. “Oh, yeah! I've told baa-chan to release Uchiha-san as soon as he’s healthy enough. You’ll put him up in your apartment, ne, Kakashi-sensei?”

Then the brat is gone, too fast for Kakashi to catch even if he wasn’t frozen in place, jaw gaping open in horrified disbelief.

The words take another six seconds to sink in fully, and Kakashi splutters, far too late for anyone to hear.

 

It takes another week before Tsunade-sama finally clears him completely, though Obito is on the strictest _take it easy_ orders he’s ever gotten. He’s more than ready—after seven days of no company beyond the silent ANBU and the occasional wary nurse, the only reason he hasn’t gone _entirely_ crazy is because chakra exhaustion makes it easy to sleep for thirty-six hours at a time. Still, when an orderly drops off his discharge papers and a standard jounin uniform, Obito is thankful enough to swear eternal servitude. He pretends he can't hear the ANBU in the green- and purple-streaked cat mask laughing quietly at him and pulls the clothes on as quickly as he can.

Just as he gets his sandals on, there's a knock on the door. Obito looks up, but the cheerful greeting catches in his throat when he sees the tall, lanky, brown-haired man standing there, a senbon in his mouth.

Shiranui Genma observes him for another long moment and then clicks his senbon against his teeth. “Guess introductions would be redundant, huh?” he says a little wryly. “Given the circumstances.”

Obito chokes a little on his laughter—because the last time he saw Genma was when he and Raidou were facing a team of Orochimaru’s experiments, Oto-nin all ridiculously overpowered and deadly, but Obito had had his own opponent and couldn’t stop to help them—and rises to his feet. “Still,” he says, dipping into a shallow bow. “Uchiha Obito, loyal Konoha shinobi with no plans to take over the world any time soon.”

Genma snorts, but returns the gesture easily enough. “Shiranui Genma, tokubetsu jounin. Hokage-sama booked you an appointment with Yamanaka-san. I'm here to escort you.”

This is entirely expected, so Obito doesn’t bother protesting. He just offers Genma a quick smile, following the tokujo down the clean white hall. “Well, I didn’t suppose it was a social visit.”

“Next time,” Genma promises easily, tucking his hands into his pockets and leading Obito towards the front door. Obito isn’t fooled, though—the more languid Genma seems, the more ready he is for something to happen. He tries not to be offended by it, because this isn’t _his_ Genma, but—

The doors of the hospital swing open, and Obito freezes in place, confronted with his first good look at an entirely whole Konoha. His chest aches like he got kicked, and there are tears gathering in his treacherous right eye.

“Oh thank god,” he breathes, staring out over the streets and neat buildings with the hunger of a starving man. “It’s…”

Genma is still watching him, but now there's something softer in his expression, something very close to sympathy. “Still a little battered,” is all he says, though. “The village was nearly destroyed a couple of years ago, but we’ve got most of it rebuilt by now. Amazing what one guy with mokuton can do when he puts his mind to it.”

 _Yamato_ , Obito thinks with a sudden start, and has to close his eyes and shake his head once hard in order to banish the image of that battered corpse in the darkness. But Konoha in all her glory draws him back to happier thoughts, and he takes a deep breath of air that isn’t clogged with soot and smoke. It feels like bliss, like every euphoria-inducing drug in existence all tied together and injected right into his veins.

And there are _people_ around, _happy_ people. Obito can't do anything but smile at the sight of so many cheerful faces. It’s…

It’s good.

Genma lets him have a few more moments just to look, and then moves forward again. “Come on,” he says lightly. “Yamanaka-san will have my balls if we’re late, and I've got plans for them that don’t involve them being a wall decoration.”

“What, Raidou actually lets you top sometimes?” Obito jokes—sheer kneejerk reaction, truthfully, after so long being friends with both bodyguards, and being one of the few brave (reckless) enough to rib either of the men about their personal lives. A moment after he says it, he realizes his mistake with a wince. This isn’t his Genma, and—

Thankfully, Genma just lets out a bark of surprised laughter and swings a fist at his shoulder. “Ah, shut up, it’s not like that. We’re—”

“Just friends, yes, yes.” Obito repeats the mantra he’s heard so many times, grinning. Admittedly, Genma isn’t quite as much fun to tease as Raidou, who turns crimson and stutters wildly at the first implication of intimacy, but he’ll do for now.

“‘Least he’s not Kakashi,” Genma retorts, just as Obito's would have done.

Obito levels the tokujo with a narrow-eyed stare. “Who the hell told you that? I've been in Konoha all of a week!”

Genma just grins at him, wicked and sharp. “ANBU gossip worse than teenage girls,” he says cheerfully. “I'm pretty sure that by now the entire village knows that the madman who tried to take over the world has a good twin with a raging crush on the Copy-Nin.”

For a moment, Obito contemplates protesting, but then he just sighs and drops his head, raising his hands in surrender. “Argh.”

Like the ANBU, Genma has absolutely no compunctions about laughing at him, and try as he might, Obito can't fight a grin of his own at the open, carefree sound.

It’s good to be back.

 

“Can he even lie?” is Ino’s first question as she drops her report on the Hokage’s desk. “Really, that’s a serious question. I've been in a lot of minds, but Uchiha Obito is about as straightforward as they come. It’s almost…creepy.” Seeing Naruto's rather blank look, she adds, “Not to say that he’s going to blurt village secrets out the first time an enemy interrogates him. He’s got pretty exceptional compartmentalizing skills, even for an active, high-level shinobi. He’s just…”

“Honest,” Kakashi finishes for her, fingers itching to snatch the file away from his Hokage and read it for himself. “Even when he was acting like a loudmouthed idiot, Obito was always honest, at least to himself.”

Leaning forward in his chair, Naruto passes the file to Kakashi, apparently seeing his agitation. “So he’s telling the truth about everything? Konoha, Sasuke, Orochimaru? It all happened?”

Ino crosses her arms over her chest and looks down, expression troubled. Kakashi chooses to watch her, even over the lure of the file, because he’s seen Inoichi’s daughter with a lot of expressions in a lot of settings, but he’s never seen her look so…disturbed.

“Yes,” she says simply. “It was…horrible. Everyone was dead. Even you, Naruto. And Obito-san spent two weeks hiding from Oto’s forces, living in the ruins and hiding the bodies of his comrades wherever he could, in the hope that by the time Orochimaru found them, they’d be too decomposed to be of use.” She swallows, mouth tightening, and says softly, “Orochimaru was wearing Sasuke’s body. Obito-san raised Sasuke, and then he…”

Kakashi knows very well how he felt when Sasuke left, but he was only the boy’s teacher, not his guardian, and he’d only had Team 7 for a few short months. For this Obito, the betrayal must have been all but unbearable.

Naruto winces, but simply asks, “And if I was going to reinstate him as ANBU?”

Apparently, mindreading is a skill the Hokage has recently acquired, because he shoots a sharp look at the grey-haired jounin, even as Kakashi begins to open his mouth. “We _need_ jounin and ANBU, Kakashi-sensei. The high-level shinobi suffered losses during the war, and while C- and B-rank missions are the backbone of a village, it’s the A- and S-rank that pay well. We need that, and if Obito was a captain in his world, he has experience.”

Even now, a year and a half after Naruto’s appointment, it still takes Kakashi entirely by surprise just how competent the knucklehead can be when he throws himself headlong into something with all of his effort. There were doubts, many of them from all quarters, when Tsunade declared her intention to pass on the hat and retire (more or less) to a position as head of the hospital.

There aren’t many of those doubts left now, if any.

Ino is shaking her head, too, a smile on her face as she watches the other blond. “He should be fine,” she says. “There aren’t any signs of trauma beyond what would be expected in a situation like this, and I’m marking him down for weekly psychological review, but like I said, Obito-san is good at compartmentalizing. He’s adjusting to the idea that Konoha is still here and whole, but that’s letting him push the bad memories back. Having missions to focus on will likely even help him.”

“Done, then.” Naruto nods and rises, heading for the messenger hawk perched on its stand by the door. “I’ll assign him to a squad and remove his chakra suppression seals. Ino-chan, is he still at T & I?”

“Genma snagged him once we were done.” Ino looks amused. “Something about showing him Konoha in all her glory. Knowing Genma, they’ll end up in a bar within the hour.”

Naruto answers, something long-suffering and dry in regards to his wayward bodyguard, but Kakashi can't force himself to pay attention any longer. He stares at the file for a moment, debating whether or not to read it, and then sighs. It’s about Obito, and he _knows_ Obito—he knows this one very well indeed, because he’s practically the same as the Obito Kakashi lost so many years ago. No file, however carefully prepared, is going to have anything entirely new.

He looks out over the village, where the sun is creeping past noon and shadows are just starting to stretch. For a moment all he can see is the darkness of that cave, Obito on the ground and crushed by a fall of rocks—still smiling at him, still selfless, just like all those times he’d carry old people’s groceries and pull little girls’ cats out of trees.

" _I'm about to…die…but I'll become your eye…and see the future with you._ "

And what a bleak future it was, without Obito there, even if Kakashi had never before realized just how important Obito was to him, to Minato, to the village as a whole. Kakashi closes his eyes and bows his head, bringing the folder up to shield his face as Obito's eye begins to tear up—but, for once, Kakashi knows that they're his own tears, shed not in sorrow, but in sharp-hot relief and aching joy.

Kakashi has been given more second chances than he has any right to, and this one is most certainly not going to go to waste.

“I think I’ll go get lunch,” he says out loud. “Later, Naruto, Ino-chan.”

“But—” Naruto starts; however, it’s that particular whine he gets when faced with unwanted paperwork. Kakashi doesn’t stick around to hear the rest, bailing out the window before Naruto and his terrifying ramen intuition can pick out that Kakashi's planning to hit Ichiraku. It’s the work of half a moment to find Genma's scent, long familiarity letting Kakashi trace him down the street from the hospital, to T & I, and then further into the village.

Genma and Obito are wandering, judging by the way the trail meanders from a weapons store window to a clothing shop to a fruit stand and then takes a loop around the park and heads towards the Academy. A few yards on, Kakashi can see a tall man with a bandana and a shorter man with a long braid of hair, and pauses on the branch of a convenient tree to simply watch them.

Genma leans against another tree, clearly amused if the smirk on his face is any indication. He says something and Obito laughs, dropping down to sit lotus-style on the ground. He’s a little pale, obviously not completely recovered, but his eye is bright with something like joy. Kakashi has to smile, because this isn’t his loudmouthed brat of a teammate, but it’s still _Obito_ in all the ways that matter. The _real_ Obito, and not some crazed copy twisted by Rin’s death and his own wounds.

The long hair is especially interesting, Kakashi thinks. For shinobi, long hair is a declaration of skill, an assertion that any enemy looking to get close enough to use it against them will be dead long before he can get a hand on it. The Hyuuga keep their hair long because of the Byakugan and its nearly inescapable field of view. Uchiha Itachi, Madara, Jiraiya, Inoichi, Kushina, Senju Hashirama, even Tsunade—they all proved in battle that they’d more than earned the right to wear their hair long. For Obito to do the same is a clear statement of ability, and the fact that he survived an invasion that killed off all of the remaining Konoha shinobi says that it’s not an empty boast.

It was clear, that day in the cave, that Obito was very, very good at using his Sharingan despite only just awakening it. And his Sharingan has the ability to use the Mangekyo without going blind (something Kakashi is unspeakably grateful for). So this Obito, with years of service as a high-ranking shinobi, is likely quite powerful.

Kakashi smiles again, because for all that he was a loudmouth, Obito was also right. He did become an amazing shinobi, and Kakashi only wishes that he had been there to see it happen.

He leaps down from the tree, hands tucked firmly in his pockets, and saunters over to the two men. “Morning,” he says cheerfully. Obito looks up with a wide, bright smile, painfully wonderful, and Kakashi feels his heart turn over in his chest.

“Kakashi!” the Uchiha says sunnily. “Isn’t it a gorgeous day?” He looks back, towards where children are just emerging from the Academy, flooding the grassy grounds, and Obito's heart is in his eyes, as ever. Kakashi can't bring himself to tease the man for it, though, just this once.

“Maa,” he says, nodding to Genma, who returns the gesture. “I was just going to get lunch. Up for ramen?”

Genma checks the position of the sun and winces a little. “Sorry, but I promised I’d check in with the Missions Desk before three. Apparently there's a batch of A-ranks they're trying to assign, and my wallet’s been getting a bit thin.” He pushes off the tree and nods to Obito. “See you around, Obito-kun. I look forward to working with you.” Then, with a wave, he heads back towards the Hokage Tower, dodging laughing Academy students.

Kakashi looks back at Obito, who’s watching him go. The Uchiha sighs softly and then pushes himself up to stand, stretching gracefully. “Ramen, you said?” he asks. “I haven’t been to Ichiraku in weeks.”

Almost in spite of himself, Kakashi pauses to study his former friend. Obito was always skinny as a child, under those baggy clothes he was forever wearing. Now, dressed in a standard jounin uniform with a tight shirt, it’s even clearer, especially given the hollowness of his cheeks that says food has been scarce for a while now. _Two weeks in what was, for all intents and purposes, enemy territory_ , Kakashi thinks, and it hurts to contemplate Obito all alone among the corpses of his friends and comrades, trapped by an enemy army and driven into a corner to the point that his only viable choice was an untried jutsu that left his world behind forever.

Obito is watching him, Kakashi realizes when he returns to the present, lone eye carefully considering. He’s wary, and while maybe that’s to be expected, it feels like a damned kunai to the chest. Kakashi's never been one to talk about his feelings, even when he _should_ —he still wonders, sometimes, if he could have made Sasuke stay by opening up to him a bit more—but here and now, faced with this second chance that seems entirely impossible, Kakashi isn't going to let that stop him. He takes a step forward, another, telegraphing intent because friend or not, Obito is a shinobi recently come from a warzone. Then he reaches out, snags an entirely uncomprehending Obito by his vest, and pulls him forward into a bone-crushing hug.

Obito goes stiff and startled in his arms, but Kakashi doesn’t let him escape. He ducks his head, wary of tearing up and the teasing it will undoubtedly bring, and drops his forehead onto Obito's shoulder, regardless of the difference in their heights.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, just loud enough for Obito to hear and understand. “For the eye, for being a friend even when I wasn’t, for pulling that stick out of my ass before I could get anyone else killed putting the mission first. You were right about my father, and about the rules, and—thank you, Obito.”

For a long, endless moment, Obito stays taut and unmoving. Then, slowly, he relaxes, and his arms come up to carefully circle Kakashi's shoulders. He chuckles, tipping his head to press gently against Kakashi's cheek, and his hair smells like hospital shampoo and Konoha sunlight. Another pause, and then he says softly, “You know, you’re never going to get rid of me now, Kakashi. If you’ve really acknowledged we’re friends, I'm going to stick to you like a really stubborn burr.”

Since Kakashi didn’t even know leaving was an option—though, of course, with that Phoenix Gate jutsu it’s entirely possible—and he very much doesn’t like it, he doesn’t argue. “Ah, well,” he says, pulling away just enough to clasp a hand around Obito's shoulder, “I suppose I’ll just have to bear it, then.” He takes a step back, though not a big one, and tucks his hands into his pockets again. “Ramen?”

Obito grins at him, bright and brilliant, and orders, “Lead the way.”

 

Kakashi's apartment is small and Spartan, immaculate only because it’s never used. He has a guest room with a relatively comfortable bed, though, and a kitchen, and that’s all Obito has ever needed to be content.

(The company is nice, too, and Obito basks in it whenever he’s able, because it’s _Kakashi_ and they're _friends_ and it’s everything that Obito has ever really wanted out of life.)

Obito isn't entirely certain whose idea it was that he live with Kakashi, but whoever it was, he’d like to thank them from the bottom of his heart. Here, with a Kakashi who is a friend and a companion and a cheerful, easygoing roommate, it’s easy to look at his choice to leave his own world as a good one, because with Konoha whole and Kakashi always firmly next to him, he can look forward instead of back. He still mourns, of course, and knows that a part of him always will, just like the part that mourns his clan and Itachi and the sweet, cheerful child that Sasuke once was, but he can focus on the good instead of the grief, the joy of a new, peaceful life instead of a lost world devastated by Orochimaru and Oto.

He’s lounging on the couch, reading— _not_ one of Kakashi's beloved _Icha Icha_ , because regardless of how rotted Kakashi's brain has obviously become from all that sappy, cheesy porn, Obito has _standards_ , damn it—when a knock on the door echoes through the apartment. Obito looks up, because Kakashi is out, and few people ever visit him at his apartment anyway. Moreover, those who do generally come in through the window without waiting for Kakashi (who has become _lazy_ , which, just, _geez_ ) to open the door for them.

The knock comes again and, curious, Obito marks his place and gets up, crossing quickly to the door and pulling it open.

“Yes?” he asks politely, but even that single syllable catches painfully in his throat when he sees the young man standing there.

Uchiha Sasuke looks back at him, blank-faced in the way that means he’s feeling something but hiding it, and asks, “May I come in?”

Thrown, mentally in turmoil, and very certain that he isn't hiding it half as well as Sasuke is, Obito steps back, wordlessly swinging the door open in invitation. Sasuke takes it, stepping in, and Obito stares at the tall young man he last saw burning Konoha to the ground, killing shinobi as quickly as they could face him. From what Kakashi has said, this Sasuke was able to lock Orochimaru away in his subconscious, all but dead, but Obito can't bring himself to feel glad.

After all, this Sasuke made the same choices that his did, became an avenger regardless of his team and sensei, and Obito _hates_ it with all the passion his tired heart—too used to hate, after what Orochimaru did to his village—can still muster.

The silence in the room is thick and awkward, but Obito doesn’t know what to do to break it. He clenches his hands into fists, uncertain, and decides to wait for Sasuke to make the first move. After all, this Sasuke is a stranger to him, as he is to Sasuke—‘dead’ before this boy was born, and then an enemy of Konoha, wanting only to destroy it.

At length, just as Obito is about to start fidgeting, Sasuke breathes out, long and steady and too quiet to be a sigh, and then says, “Naruto told me that you…raised me. The other me. After Itachi…”

(In Obito's world, it was Madara who helped wipe out the Uchiha clan, and regardless of what trauma his self in this world might have faced, Obito can't imagine helping with something like that.)

“Yes,” he answers, because there's not really anything else he can say. “I…don’t think I did a very good job, though. I never knew my parents, and I had no idea how to deal with someone who had known and then lost theirs. We were pretty much strangers, the first time we met—I wasn’t really a proper Uchiha, and I didn’t even live in the compound, so I’d only ever seen you in passing.”

Sasuke looks down, and Obito watches his hands clench into fists, relax, and tighten again—about as much a sign of nervousness and hesitance as the younger man will ever willingly show. “I'm…grateful,” he says slowly, like the words are being dragged from him. “I don’t know what my other self was like, but having another relative when I was growing up…it would have been…nice.”

Unable to help himself, even in the tense atmosphere, Obito chuckles and raises a hand, letting it rest on top of his cousin’s bowed head. “I never had a little brother,” he offers gently, “and I know you already had an older brother you adored, but I’d like to think that I was at least that crazy uncle no one ever talks about. You have the potential to be amazing, Sasuke, not just as a shinobi, but as a person. In my world, you never got to fulfil that, but I think here, you’ve got a pretty good chance if you just keep at it. The Uchiha clan has had plenty of good shinobi; now we need some good people to balance it out.”

Sasuke doesn’t bat his hand away even when Obito lightly ruffles his hair, which for him is the same as grateful acceptance, and Obito smiles at him. “I was about to make some lunch,” he offers. “If you aren’t scared of catching Kakashi's perversion by staying in the apartment a little longer, I’d be more than happy to cook for two.”

Sasuke casts a quick glance at the shelf full of lurid orange books and immediately blanches. “The Korean Barbeque is open,” he says, and for Sasuke, that tone is the next best thing to desperate. “My treat. Let’s leave. Now.”

Obito laughs and lets his cousin all but drag him out of the apartment. Whatever Sasuke has done, whatever crimes he’s committed or wrong choices he’s made, the boy is family. As far as Obito is concerned, he’s got little enough as that as it is. Maybe this time, in this world, there's a chance for them to be everything the term ‘family’ implies.

 

Kakashi checks his watch as he meanders down the street, casually checking out merchant stalls as he waits for the necessary two hours to pass. Conceivably, it’s no longer necessary, what with Obito alive and well and cooking dinner for him each night, but fifteen years of habit is a hard thing to break, and Kakashi still gets a kick out of driving people nuts—a personality flaw, perhaps, but all of the elite shinobi have them, and at least Kakashi isn't running around dressed in brilliant green spandex. Things could be much worse.

Kakashi buys some dango and whiles away another twenty minutes before he judges he’s sufficiently late. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he wanders towards the Hokage Tower and his meeting. Idly, he wonders what Obito is doing today. Probably training, as he has been for the last few days since his chakra suppression seals came off, in an effort to get back into shape after his stay at the hospital. Kakashi's accompanied him a few times and seen just how competent Obito has become, and it’s impressive. He still favors fire, his elemental affinity, but he’s created a handful of his own jutsus that are quite impressive, and his command of his Mangekyo is even better than this world’s Obito—likely because this Obito hasn’t augmented his strength with mokuton or a Rinnegan eye.

(Every time they face each other across the training field, as friends in a spar rather than enemies on the battlefield, Kakashi feels his heart twist and flip, and maybe he’s never really considered romance before, but this Obito makes him _want_ it. But Obito hasn’t said or done anything, regardless of his confession of love that day in the hospital, and Kakashi feels maybe perhaps possibly a little impatient and confused; Obito had said that he had never approached _that_ Kakashi [not _his_ , because _that_ Kakashi doesn’t deserve that kind of title] because he wanted at least a basis of friendship between them. Well, they're friends now, aren’t they?)

He takes to the roofs with an easy leap and picks up his pace a little before aiming for the Hokage’s window and leaping across the distance. It’s open—Naruto learned the hard way to always keep it open, after three shinobi in a row hit the glass face-first—and Kakashi settles on the sill, mouth already open and spilling, “Maa, maa, sorry I'm late. A little old lady needed help across the street, and then she—”

Then he realizes who else in the office and promptly chokes on his tongue.

Obito looks somewhere between delighted, horrified, and just plain flabbergasted. His mouth is hanging open, good eye wide as he stares. Across the desk, Naruto is laughing his ass off, and Shikamaru looks entirely amused where he’s slouching in the corner.

Deciding that, just this once, he can leave an excuse unfinished, Kakashi slides off the windowsill and slinks into position in front of the Hokage’s desk, hoping beyond hope that his mask hides the flush creeping up his cheeks. He casts a fairly sheepish glance at Obito, who’s still staring, and then glares at his former student.

“You wanted to see me, Hokage-sama?” he asks with all the tattered remnants of his dignity that he can gather around himself.

Naruto, the rude, ungrateful brat, manages to choke back his laughter long enough to wave a mission scroll at Kakashi and Obito and gasp out, “A-rank, kidnapping ring, Wave,” and then goes back to chortling.

Obito pulls himself together and snags the scroll, quickly committing it to memory before passing it on to Kakashi. Kakashi scans it. It’s thankfully straightforward: a kidnapping ring operating out of Wave, taking children for ransom, orders to eliminate the members and free the hostages. There aren’t any catches that Kakashi can see, even if he feels a bit wary after his last mission to wave.

Apparently, Shikamaru sees that, or anticipated it, because he offers, “I sent a chuunin to check it out. As far as we can tell everything checks out, and the kidnappers are bandits without formal training. It should be easy enough; the only reason it’s A-rank is because of the hostages. Kakashi, you’ve got the lead, but we figured it would be good for Uchiha-san to get back into the swing of things, as he’s been out of the hospital for a month now.”

Kakashi nods, rerolling the scroll and tucking it away. He inclines his head to the snickering Hokage and heads for the window, Obito half a step behind him as they head back to the apartment to get their packs.

Unfortunately, for two shinobi of their level, crossing the rooftops doesn’t require any concentration at all, and they're only a few blocks from the Tower when Obito glances over at Kakashi and arches an eyebrow. “Little old lady?” he asks with badly smothered humor.

Kakashi keeps his eyes fixed firmly ahead of him and curses his inclination for lateness to this of all meetings. “Yes,” he says archly. “If you can get away with it, I thought I might as well. Problems?”

Obito just shakes his head, laughing a little. “Nope,” he says cheerfully. “But you know, I broke that habit _years_ ago. Something about good shinobi never being three hours late to everything?”

Kakashi is hardly going to tell him that it started when he kept losing track of time visiting the Memorial Stone for this man in particular, and then the habit evolved from there. He just keeps his mouth shut and braces himself for the way Obito will doubtless hold this over his head _forever_.

Thankfully, Obito lets it drop, and they slide through the apartment window one after another, separating to grab prepared packs and double-check weapons. Less than ten minutes later, they're back out on the rooftops and heading for the gates.

 

They find where the kidnappers are holing up easily enough, because even a ninja would have a hard time concealing their trail from a tracker of Kakashi's level, and these men are definitely not ninja. It’s a cave by the sea, narrow in the front and widening out into a large open space a little ways in. Kakashi signals a halt, hidden in the shadows of the forest, and Obito drops down onto the next branch over. These aren’t Fire Country trees, vast and sturdy, but they're good enough for brief concealment.

“Ideas?” Obito asks softly, eyes fixed on the cave. Shinobi eyes can easily pick out the man concealed in the shadows of a large boulder, though a civilian would doubtless miss him. Still, caves carry sound, and the land leading up to the cliff face is pretty much entirely barren, so they’ll have to be careful on their approach.

Kakashi checks the position of the sun. “Night is safest,” he decides. “Take out the guard, slip inside, and kill the rest as quickly as we can, before one of them can raise the alarm. They're not expecting us, so the hostages should be out of the way.”

Obito nods. “I’ll go first, use Kamui to make myself intangible in case there are any traps. You’ll cover me?”

That doesn’t bear acknowledging; of course Kakashi is going to watch Obito's back. He’s got bad memories of missions in caves, and even the fact that they're facing simple bandits isn't helping ease his mind. Instead, he fixes his eyes on the cave mouth and says, “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you at dusk.”

Perhaps it’s entirely predictable that Obito rolls his eyes at that. “You'll wake me at three,” he tells Kakashi, tone not leaving any room for argument. “Then you can rest and _I’ll_ wake you at dusk.” With that, he leaps to a higher branch and settles with his back against the tree, eye closing and breathing evening out. Like any experienced shinobi, he knows to take advantage of any downtime he gets.

Kakashi stares at him for a long moment before smiling in spite of himself. He settles himself more comfortably and lets his awareness spread, watching for unexpected visitors and keeping track of the men who emerge. At least ten, maybe as many as fifteen, he thinks. Easy enough for two former ANBU operatives. Obito's completely recovered and back in shape, so hopefully nothing will go too drastically wrong.

And, in the beginning, nothing does. They take the guards—two of them at night, rather than one—without fuss, and Obito slips into the cave with Kakashi just far enough behind to avoid any possible traps. There's only one, however, and it’s simple enough to sidestep. One more guard on the inside of the passage, but Kakashi gives Obito the signal to engage and the bandit dies before he can so much as notice their shadows. Kakashi leaps into the cave, half a beat behind his teammate, and they catch the twelve men around the fire completely unaware. Four of them are dead before they can draw their weapons, and three more follow shortly after.

Even if he’d been told to show mercy, Kakashi wouldn’t, because these men target _children_ , and even for shinobi, there are some things that are entirely unacceptable. The larger villages all make it a point, with few exceptions, to deny assassination contracts for children, and even kidnappings are carefully scrutinized for motive. For all that shinobi children never stay children for long, the Hidden Villages value their young.

Obito clearly feels the same, because he takes just as many heads as Kakashi, darting back towards the secondary room where the hostages are being kept. The guard there sees him coming and swears, ducking back into the other room—likely going for a hostage, Kakashi thinks darkly, even as he catches a rusty, dull-bladed sword on his kunai. The bandit snarls in his face, and without hesitation, Kakashi rams a second kunai through his heart. He falls, the last beyond Obito's current opponent, and Kakashi—

A rumble shakes the cavern, followed by the shriek and crash of tumbling stone, and Kakashi's heart and mind both freeze in numb terror.

 _No_ , he thinks, and then, _Obito_.

Obito, who still hasn’t spoken of love, even after a month, and Kakashi hasn’t brought it up because he’s a damned _coward_ who’s wasting his second chance, and if this is the end of that chance Kakashi will never, ever be able to forgive himself. He won't be able to bear it, not again, not when he knows what a friend Obito can be, what the closeness of a best friend is like with the possibility for _more_ , and—

A little girl darts out of the passage, smudged with dust and dirt and trailing a rough rope around one ankle, a younger boy in her arms, and like a dam giving way, more children flood out, not one of them a day over twelve. Kakashi absently wishes for another bandit alive, just so he can kill him slowly, but dismisses that and calls to the girl, “Wait in here. Don’t leave, they could have backup coming.”

He doesn’t wait to see if they obey, but leaps for the other room, heart in his throat and mind whirling, because he _can't_ —

The choking dust stirs, and a figure in a dirt-streaked shinobi uniform stumbles forward, almost directly into Kakashi's arms. Automatically, Kakashi grabs his shoulder to keep him upright, and Obito favors him with a crooked grin, clearly aware of just why Kakashi's face has been leeched of all color.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “There was another guard back there as well. I had to bury them both before they could go for the kids, but I guess my Doton jutsus still need work.”

Kakashi feels like punching him. Or, barring that, pinning him to the blasted stone and kissing him senseless. Instead, he settles for a heavy, slightly shaky sigh and leans forward, clanking their hitai-ate together. “Bastard,” he mutters, and Obito just smiles at him.

“Shinobi-san,” the first girl says timidly, and they both turn to look at her.

Obito steps around Kakashi and goes to her, putting a hand on her matted, filthy hair and smiling down at her. “Come on,” he orders gently. “Let’s get you back to your families. I'm sure they're missing you very much right now.”

The girl beams up at him, entirely uncaring of the bodies all around her. Kakashi wonders at the resilience of children, even as he leans down to scoop a wavering younger boy onto his back. “Off we go,” he says, injecting a note of cheer into his voice. “It’s a bit of a walk, so if you want to hitch a ride, just ask.”

Perhaps predictably, riding ninja-back is the newest big thing, and they all want to try. Kakashi ends up creating a few shadow clones to split the burden, and he’s altogether so relieved to be leaving the damned cave that he doesn’t even tease Obito about his inability to make a long-lasting, stable kage bunshin.

(Well. Doesn’t tease him _much_.)

 

The innkeeper’s daughter is among those rescued, and the man is insistent about offering them a room for the night. Since it’s a two-day trip back to Konoha, even moving quickly, Kakashi agrees, and Obito is entirely grateful. Regardless of the front he puts up for his partner, caves still manage to freak him the hell out, and he plans to spend a good, solid hour in the bath, scrubbing the cave-dirt out of his skin.

Thankfully, there's plenty of hot water, and Obito emerges from the bathroom feeling like an entirely new person, slightly pruney but altogether refreshed. Kakashi, who beat him to the bath (by way of cheating, rather than seniority), is lounging on his bed with that ridiculous orange book, already mostly dry. Obito grins at him as he collapses on his own bed and rolls onto his back, crossing his arms behind his head and closing his eye.

“A good day’s work,” he says happily, thinking of the jubilant children and their overjoyed parents. Wave is still a poor country, and while a handful of families were able to scrape up enough money for a ransom, the majority of them weren’t. It’s times like this that Obito enjoys being a shinobi the most, because tools or not, they can do good. They can do a lot of good.

There's silence from the other bed, not even the rustle of a page turning, and Obito is just about to roll over and ask what’s wrong when something heavy—a hundred and fifty pounds, give or take—pins him to the mattress, strong fingers closing around his wrists and trapping them above his head one-handed. He tenses automatically, fighting down the instinct to activate Kamui and go intangible, and instead carefully opens his eye to stare up at the face hovering over him. Kakashi's hair is loose, for once obeying gravity as it falls around his face, and his hitai-ate is off. Obito looks into his own eye (more or less) set into another face, and wonders at the intense expression there.

“Kakashi?” he asks warily, because he’s behaved himself, he’s kept them firmly as friends and hasn’t allowed himself to think of anything more. Just friends is more than enough, even if it’s not everything he’s ever wanted, but he’s already gotten his second chance at a decent life and he refuses to be greedy.

But when Kakashi looks at him like that, the same way he did in the cave, it’s really fucking hard not to want _more_.

Kakashi stares right back at him, dark grey eye and blood-red eye both unreadable, and then reaches up with his free hand and carefully tugs down his mask. Obito doesn’t even have time to suck in a breath—because this is something he’s never seen before, not in his world, not even after a month of living together, but Kakashi is _gorgeous_ —before Kakashi's mouth is slanting over his like a firebrand, hot and hungry and _perfect_. Obito whimpers into the kiss as that hand skims down his side, tracing and teasing, and he arches up against Kakashi, who’s lean and limber but has a good two inches and more than twenty-five pounds on Obito.

“I'm tired of waiting,” Kakashi says as they separate, holding Obito's gaze without a hint of hesitation. “So I'm taking this step for you. That’s enough solid ground already, I think.”

Obito recalls his words to Kakashi in the hospital, his first day awake. _We…never really managed to become friends, and I didn’t want to do anything without at least a bit of solid ground between us, so…I just never said anything_. And Kakashi _remembers_ that. He’s been _thinking_ about it, if that look is anything to go by. Obito feels something lurch in his stomach, anticipation or worry or joy or elation, or maybe all of them mixed together. He catches his breath and then tugs gently on his captured hands.

“Let me touch you,” he whispers, and Kakashi's eyes go dark and hungry.

“Strip,” he orders hoarsely, sitting back on his heels and dragging his shirt up over his head. Obito does the same as quickly as he can, because Kakashi is lean and pale and perfectly muscled, every daydream he’s ever had brought to life and wildly improved upon. He strips off his shirt and wriggles out of his pants, a move that makes Kakashi growl and shove his own pants down with little finesse. Then Kakashi is on him again, one hand twisting in Obito's long hair and tugging sharply. It makes Obito arch his back, and Kakashi steals the cry right from his lips.

“Fuck,” Kakashi whispers, words warm and humid against his cheek. “How did I never see how hot you are?”

“Willful blindness,” Obito gasps back even as he grins, raking his short nails down Kakashi's back and adoring the way he arches and twists.

Kakashi chuckles at that, settling his weight fully over Obito and pressing down, mouthing along his throat in burning nips and soothing licks until Obito keens and twines their legs together, pulling the Copy-Nin even closer. Kakashi growls low in his throat, darkly predatory, and as Obito's hands settle, one on his shoulder and the other twined in his silver hair, he reaches down to grasp their cocks in one large, deft hand. Obito cries out, shuddering at the touch even as Kakashi pressed him into the bed with fierce, breathlessly hungry kisses.

Two tortuously slow pulls of Kakashi's hand and then those fingers are dipping lower, spreading Obito's thighs a touch more and sliding down to circle around his entrance, making him gasp. Kakashi swallows the sound, and then breathes against his lips, “Have you done this before?”

Obito manages a shaky chuckle, opening the eye he doesn’t remember closing and arching a brow at the man above him. “I'm hardly an untouched virgin, Kakashi,” he says with amusement. “I'm just about your age, after all.”

Kakashi kisses him again, but this time it’s harder, harsher, like Kakashi is going to eat him from the mouth down then come back for seconds. The fingers press down, just barely sliding inside of him, and the rough drag of dry skin makes him buck and cry out.

“Doesn’t matter,” Kakashi tells him, pulling back. He slides off, leaving Obito aching and cold, but he’s back with a jar of salve in hand before Obito can do more than gasp. He rolls on top of Obito again, capturing one hand and lacing their fingers together before he leans down for another kiss. This one is calmer than the last, easier, but just as hungry. They break apart, breathless and panting, and Kakashi stares down at him with his unmasked face, expression unyielding. “Doesn’t matter,” he repeats, “because this—” a tip of his head takes in the two of them, the bed, the heated air between them “—is permanent. I'm not going to give it up, Obito. Not again. Not ever.”

Obito has to laugh at that. He laughs and rolls his eyes and pulls Kakashi down until they're chest-to-chest, bodies entirely aligned. “Like I’d let you,” he says cheerfully, looping his arms around Kakashi's shoulders. “A really stubborn burr, remember?” Then he untangles their legs, slinging one of his over Kakashi's hip and dragging his nails over the back of Kakashi's neck. “Now, I believe we were in the middle of something?”

A slick finger sliding inside of him steals his breath, even as Kakashi takes another kiss. “Mm,” Kakashi agrees lazily. “We were, weren’t we?” The first finger is joined by another and Obito arches into the touch, biting back a loud cry as they spread and stretch, dragging over deliciously sensitive nerves and sending shivers of pleasure up his spine.

“Kakashi,” he gasps, “either _move_ or I'm going to flip us over and ride you ‘till your brain melts.”

Kakashi goes very, very still, pupils dilating even more as he sucks in a lungful of air. “Was that supposed to be a deterrent?” he asks, voice gone hoarse and low. Then there’s another finger pushing inside of him, and Obito can't hold back his keen this time, even as Kakashi dips down and breathes into his ear, “That’ll have be next time. Right now, I'm going to take you. Then when you’ve recovered, I'm going to take you again, and again, until you feel me in you every time you move for the next _week_. And if we get horny on the way home, I’ll put you up against a tree and take you there. I'm not letting you go, Obito, not for anything.”

 _Too much of that damned porn_ , Obito thinks desperately. _Entirely too much porn if the bastard thinks that some dirty talk_ —

The fingers slide out, twisting as they go, and Obito swears fiercely at Kakashi, right up until the feel of something bigger pressing against his entrance steals even that much cognitive function. Kakashi pushes into him, one hand linked with his again, the other anchoring him to the bed, and Obito sinks his teeth into Kakashi's shoulder. Kakashi's cock is hot and hard, sliding into him with agonizing slowness, and Obito thrashes against Kakashi's grip, wanting to shove himself down and just _take_ the damned thing, because it’s good, great, amazing, but he wants _more_.

Finally, fucking _finally_ Kakashi sinks in to the hilt, but then he stops and _doesn’t move_.

“Good?” breathes, feathering kisses over Obito's lips, even as he braces his elbow next to Obito's shoulder, hand twisting firmly into Obito's dark hair and setting sparks dancing behind his eyes.

Obito growls in answer, clamping down as hard as he can with his inner muscles. Kakashi gasps and curses, hips jerking forward automatically, and Obito cries out, arching his back.

“Move, move, _move_ ,” he chants, clawing at Kakashi's stupid unmoving back, and the man apparently takes him at his word. He pulls back, withdrawing almost completely, and then rocks forward, sliding deep and hard. Obito cries out, riding the thrusts, rising to meet them and urging Kakashi on faster and harder because he’s never in his life wanted anyone as much as he wants this man, quirks and bad habits and porn collection and all. He drags Kakashi's head down, kisses him desperately as he tries to convey _I'm yours I'm yours you're mine and you're never getting rid of me_ with lips and tongue and teeth. Kakashi moans, low and deep, and hitches his hips, cock dragging right over his prostate and making Obito drop his head back with a shout as pleasure glances like lightning through his body.

“Kakashi, _yes_!” he cries, even as Kakashi's mouth finds his again. “Harder, damn it, do that again!”

Kakashi laughs at him, winded and flushed and _beautiful_ , and gasps out, “Your wish is my command.” He changes the rhythm of his thrusts, drags back, slides forward, and Obito's world goes up in sparks of red and blinding white. He gasps and tenses, even as Kakashi repeats the move, and it’s too much. The pleasure swells and crests and crashes over him, and he comes with Kakashi's name broken and breathless on his lips.

Kakashi gasps, moans, and bites down on his bared throat, riding out his orgasm in three hard thrusts before he’s coming too, hot and wet inside Obito's overstimulated body. He collapses over him, muscles giving way, and he buries his face in Obito's hair, panting. Silence settles over the room, sweet and sated, and Obito trembles with the most glorious aftershocks he’s ever felt, every limb turned to water.

With a gentle kiss to his jaw, Kakashi levers himself up on one elbow and slowly pulls out. Obito groans at the drag of flesh over nerves that are still buzzing and opens his eye, trying to catch his breath.

“Alright?” Kakashi asks with some concern. Obito can only manage a nod, but he smiles up at the man. It’s probably dazed and adoring and entirely besotted, but Obito can't really bring himself to care.

Apparently, Kakashi doesn’t mind either, because he leans forward and kisses Obito again, soft and gentle, and then scrounges a shirt from the floor to clean them up with. Obito lets him without argument, and a moment later, Kakashi settles next to him on the bed, fingers combing gently through Obito's long hair.

“I think you’ve got a hair fetish,” Obito manages to say after another moment, raising an amused brow at the Copy-Nin.

“Only for yours,” Kakashi admits shamelessly, lifting a few dark strands to his lips. He wraps them around his fingers, even as he drops back against the pillows and reaches out with his free hand, tugging Obito against his side.

Obito lets his head rest against Kakashi's shoulder, enjoying the closeness, and then, while his brain is half-dazed with sated exhaustion and he can't overthink the words, he murmurs, “I love you so much more than I ever loved the other Kakashi. He was…a possibility. A hope. You're very, very much the reality.”

Beneath his cheek, he can feel Kakashi's breath catch, and then lips brush over his forehead in a careful caress. “I'm glad,” Kakashi whispers back, “because I love you, too.”

Obito smiles, even as the gold-edged darkness of sleep washes over him.

That night, and for so very many of the nights after, his dreams are very sweet.


End file.
